Alice: War
by DevastationofAlice
Summary: A decade ago, the Red Queen plunged Wonderland into darkness.  Now Alice has returned, seeking comfort in this shattered world.  But Wonderland has awaited their champion.  And now it must prepare for its second war.  Rated M for safety.
1. Penitence

**Actually wrote this some time ago** **_(quit__e_ some time ago) but thanks to...a fellow admirer (of Alice, duh, not me, as narcissistic that would sound) I've finally gotten the inspiration to post this...sequel, should I say. and I hope y'all enjoy Alice as much as I have. :D  
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**Disclaimer: You know what? This writer is a little lazy. Be a dear and refer to the previous story?  
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**Chapter One: Penitence**

The Reverend lingered about the reception area. Hardly what you'd call a reception area, though. Damp, mouldy walls painted a horrid shade of pink, ostensibly to cheer up the patients—or inmates, as people referred to them. Years of non-restoration, though, had left sections of cracks, paint peeling to reveal bare, uninviting grey stone or even worse, a thin film of disgusting moss. The effect was enough to send sane men screaming, thought Charles Dodgson as he ran fingers though his thinning brown hair.

"She'll be here any moment, Reverend," remarked the prim maiden seated at the desk taking up half the space of the otherwise empty waiting room. Dodgson nodded at her gratefully, noting the colour of her eyes as she lifted her head from the typewriter to look at him. Jade green. So much like Alice, and even around the same age too, if not for the fact that one had had to witness the traumatic deaths of her father, mother…

"Reverend?"

"Nu-nu-nurse—"

"D. Right this way, please."

Dodgson moved down the corridor following the asylum's longest serving staff. He fingered his robes nervously, feeling slightly humiliated, as usual, of his stutter. But Nurse D. showed no sign of mocking, or any feeling whatsoever. Thin lips pressed in a perfectly horizontal line, the only changes were the addition of a few severe furrows across the forehead and strands of white hair peeking from underneath her cap.

Otherwise still recognizable as the indifferent lady he'd met when, distraught and completely helpless, he'd brought the grieving Alice to this morbid institute.

Nurse D. turned a corner, and Dodgson noticed for the umpteenth time the hardness in those pupils, the lack of any emotion whatsoever. A creepy woman to be around outside this asylum, but in this world of insanity and nightmares, it was probably for the best. Unlike the chirpy teen they'd just left behind, who'd probably retire in a few months if she had the sense (more often than not, staff were eventually fired…only to be brought in as patients), the strongest emotional barriers were the only protection one had against the madness.

"I'm not even sure why you bother to drop by every month. As I told you a few years ago, she's hopeless. No chance of recovery. Alternates between grief-induced fits of rage and elective mutism. Often needs restraints to keep her from harming the orderlies—or herself."

"I..I'm not sure…is it sa-sa-safe to see her to-to-today?"

Dr. Wilson blinked twice, sharing a glance with Nurse D. "I'd say so, but not much point, really. Recently she went catatonic, soon after the four-hundred-and-thirty-seventh time she assaulted me in anger. Doesn't respond to anything or anyone. Somehow she's survived a week without food and water, and the only signs that she's still…alive are her steady pulse and breathing."

"Thank you. Ma-ma-may I see her?"

Dr. Wilson considered the smiling Reverend, wrung his hands nervously, then pushed a cast iron key into the tumbler lock.

Serene.

A word here which meant "staring glassily, unsmiling and unmoving, at the ceiling instead of wailing and blubbering for her parents".

Dodgson sighed, shutting the eyelids over the twin green orbs which would have been alluring for a girl her age. Any girl who had not been subject to the torture and suffering that Alice had had to endure for more than half the years she'd been on Earth. His lips trembled as he traced the bandaged wrists, scraped knuckles, caressed her tear-stained cheeks, and he murmured a prayer for Alice to recover from her madness. Still, however unresponsive she was now, it was miles better than when he'd first brought her in…

* * *

><p>He'd rushed over as fast as he could when he heard the cries of the townspeople.<p>

Pushed his way through the faceless crowd, a task eased by the respected position he held.

Saw a small figure stumbling about, rooting in the remains and ashes of the razed mansion and strode over hurriedly.

Heard her sobbing inconsolably as she searched, crying for her parents and the names of her sisters aloud.

"Dad? Mom? Edith! Lorina!"

Dodgson laid a hand on Alice's shoulder and turned her to face him, gripping the mere slip of a girl firmly. Stared at the eyes set in ash-blackened face and looked for a trace of recognition, but there was none. Those orbs screamed pain, rage and denial, and the two erstwhile soul mates gazed unblinkingly at each other for a while.

Then Alice grabbed one of his broad hands with both of hers.

"Where are my Mom and Dad, Reverend? They've disappeared and I'm not sure where to start looking." Stated surprisingly clearly, but the pleading was evident in her voice and tremble.

This tone, of loss and suffering, coming from the cute voice of a young girl not even in her teens, broke his heart.

Dodgson resented being the Messenger, but he saw no other recourse. It'd probably be better if she knew the truth from one she loved and trusted, rather than find out herself later on. Better to save the poor child that hurt. Still, no eight-year old deserved to be told of the death of everyone she held dear.

He opened his mouth, stuttering for a reply, when unexpectedly a couple of firemen emerged from the wreckage, tugging a quartet of bodies burnt so badly they were hardly recognizable.

Except, unfortunately, to Alice.

Pushing Dodgson away with astonishing strength, she'd staggered to the corpses of her family and bawled uncontrollably, wailing miserable apologies for not being able to save them. Only when he and the firemen dragged her kicking and screaming away could she be separated from her dead kin.

Dodgson took in the girl whom he used to picnic with, intending to show her the affection he would to the daughter he'd never had. But to say that it was an uphill task was too much of an understatement.

Every night he'd be awaken by her screaming, and he'd had to wrestle her till she stopped clawing and reaching for her imaginary family. Every time he did so she'd snap awake from her nightmare and glare at him hatefully, as if blaming the Reverend for the non-existence of her parents. In the day she'd sulk in her room, muttering darkly in a corner of the room and refusing to eat, or screaming her lungs out while beating herself up with anything she could get her hands on.

His tranquil life was turned upside down. He'd tried reading to her, telling her jokes during her calmer moments, hoping to hear that child-like bubble of laughter that cheered him so whenever he took her and her sisters along for rides down the river a year ago. Each attempt, however, was a wasted effort.

Once, Dodgson retrieved the manuscript of _Alice in Wonderland_, the labour of love he'd devoted his time for Alice herself. Even before he'd gotten past the first few poems she shivered slightly, balling her little fists as if holding in inexplicable rage. Then her green eyes looked up at him, hollow, hard and holding millennia of agony within their pits.

"Go away," she rasped. "I never want to hear that ridiculous fairytale from you ever again."

Each word was a searing knife-wound in his soul. Hurt and helpless, he knew that redeeming this pitiable child from her dark mental world of death and self-blame were beyond him.

"_NO! Please, don't send me there, Reverend. I won't misbehave again, just please don't—" _

"_I'm so-so-sorry, my child, bu-bu-but that's the only way."_

He would never forget—nay, forgive, even—the day he made that heart-rending decision. Those beseeching eyes, the desperate grip in one rare moment of lucidity. But he knew that the moment his resolve wavered she would revert to her crazed state again. He simply did not know what to do with her.

Dodgson had stood outside the asylum gates, his heart fighting with his head, as the burly orderlies dragged Alice away, while Nurse D. assured him that Rutledge would give her the best cure possible.

* * *

><p>Yet now, as well as every time he came to visit, he regretted his moment of cruelty. He reminded himself that he'd done the right thing, but as he stared at Alice's motionless body, the tears streamed down.<p> 


	2. Forgiving

**DISCLAIMER:...As follows**

**Chapter Two: Forgiving**

I lay in the hammock bed, one arm in a makeshift sling, swinging gently. Much more comfortable sleeping quarters than I'd had in a long time. Yet I remained awake, as I would often do during my time in the asylum.

I couldn't go to sleep.

Wouldn't.

Restless, I sat up and stepped out, treading carefully away from the two mini-grandfather clocks the hammock hung from.

As I tried to navigate my way about the haphazard arrangement of scraps and forgotten machine parts, a glimmer of light shone in the distance. I peered into the gloom, shielding my eyes and gripping the handle of my knife, not wanting to be the target of a surprise intruder.

Blinking several times, I let my pupils adjust to the bobbing white bulb, making out two long legs, spindly arms…and a distinctive top hat. Noticing me, Tarrant seemed to glide forward ghost-like, knowing the floor like the top of his hat, and was beside me in seconds.

Holding the glowing top of his cane to his face, I could see the half-delighted, semi-snarky smile he used whenever he was amused. "Couldn't sleep," he ventured, a statement and a question.

I smiled shakily in agreement, shrugging. "I thought it would be better if I didn't. There's more fear and terror when my imagination is allowed to run wild than when I'm awake. I mean, wasn't all this mess a result of it romping around crazily in the first place?" I chuckled at my own self-deprecating joke, a manic little laugh that scared even me. It _was_ my fault, that was true, and it _was_ right that I was being made to suffer for it now, being made to—

"Now, now, dear girl, no one's blaming you for it…though maybe there are, but these people fall into two categories: those forgiving you, seeing that you're working hard to make the proper amends, and those who I don't know, so I suppose that's alright…" his voice trailed off, tapping his chin as if he wasn't even really sure about what he had just said. Which, in Tarrant's case, was a (fortunately? unfortunately?) common occurrence.

I pressed my lips at the comforting comment and found myself shrugging again. Couldn't find a proper reply to something so ambiguous anyway.

Tarrant was still looking into empty space. Or, in this case, cluttered, rusted and slightly greasy space. Knowing I probably wasn't going to get a response out of the Mad Hatter in one of his moods, I started to walk around him, but his neck snapped around abruptly, considering me.

Then Tarrant nodded slowly while I was frozen at the sudden attention, drawling, "Mmm…very wise. Go somewhere with me?"

* * *

><p>The Clock Tower. Overlooking the Mechanical Altercation Domain, where I and Tarrant had dueled to the death. I looked morosely past the enormous whirring hands at the tiny bloody marks on the ground several feet below, while Tarrant busied himself, brewing the beverage that I had grown to love ever since that party a decade ago.<p>

"So…whatever it is that's causing the insomnia. Would you like to talk about it?"

I blinked, and stared silently at the copper mug of steaming tea. Tarrant stared at me, picking imaginary lint from the red coat that he wore, his version of nervous pacing. Neither of us moved or spole for several long minutes. Then—

"Kill me," I whimpered.

Tarrant's eyebrows nearly disappeared up his hat. Then he chuckled mirthlessly, but I heard the mug rattle as he set it down. A shaking, gloved hand bridged the gap between us and settled on my cheek, turning me to face him.

"What is it really, Alice? It's alright if you don't wish to tell me, but it's not too great if you just…bottle up all those emotions within yourself all the time…you'll explode, more often than not, and my factory might be a messier place because of that." Slight pause. "Also, our messiah might die, and that isn't all good."

His words were playful, jesting, but the voice that spoke them was laced with soft concern, and the hand that touched me felt like satin against skin. I simply couldn't help it anymore, letting the tears flow freely, dripping in a salty pool that mixed in with the tart tea.

"Oh dear—you've quite ruined your tea. Here, let me make you a new cup—"

"No, please don't go!"

"Eh?"

"It's…I can't…Oh, Tarrant, it's all my fault! I couldn't save my parents, I couldn't save my sisters, I couldn't even help to keep Wonderland safe from myself. All those…dead, oppressed and suffering people are all in this state because of me! Rabbit is dead because he helped me! My parents and sisters are dead because they saved me! I don't want to lose you, Tarrant. I don't want you to die because of me; I don't want anyone else to suffer because of me…" I've been saying these words to myself all day and all night, blaming myself every waking hour. And now, in the presence of the man I loved, they all came spilling out.

Tarrant bowed his head, seeming to consider my words, but I couldn't see any expression in his top hat-shadowed eyes through my tears. He turned and emptied the contents of the mug into the nearest sink, then pulled a rug sticking out from between two rusting pipes and began wiping the already shiny cup absentmindedly, his back to me.

"You know," he finally sighed, so soft I could hardly make out separate words, "I don't have any more right to live than you do."

His words gave me pause, interrupted my wallowing, and I looked up to see him looking defeated, shoulders hunched, gripping the edge of the sink so tightly his gloves were straining.

"I just can't face closing my eyes either. You must know now that I spent half a decade under the Queen's insidious influence, Alice. The true _Mad _Hatter.

"Under my hands the factory churned out weapons of mass destruction, like the poor Crystal Cyborgs, abominations created at the expense of Wonderlander's lives. My Terminators wiped out hundreds, following my commands to the letter.

"And they remember.

"They look for me when I lose my guard, and lose no chance to remind me of my sins, my atrocious deeds of gunning down the same innocents I had once gave my life and soul for."

I didn't dare to look again, didn't notice him already by my side until the mug was replaced with a nearly soundless rattle on the metal table, while his other hand smoothed my hair. His eyes were slightly red, I noticed—not from the malevolence that had consumed him for the last five years but from the unseen tears he suppressed. Yet I couldn't help myself—

"Do you believe in afterlife, Tarrant? Do you think there's a place to go after you pass from this world, where you reap your just retribution for the deeds you've done?"

With one steady finger he tucked a dark brown strand of hair behind my ears, something he hadn't had the chance to do ever since I was a small girl.

"I don't even dare to think what awaits my type. The killing's I've done, the horrendous crimes…but I'd like to hope that there's a place reserved for those killing fighting in the Resistance, for those who gave their life in the name of helping Wonderland crawl out of this nightmare. And that…it is a paradise, for these people. A paradise they well and truly deserve for giving themselves to saving this one.

"If I can just get…any indication…" here his voice trembled, in…hope? Disbelief? "…that my former comrades are doing well, I'd take any torture gladly, bow down to whatever they dish out without protest."

Had I been in the mood I might have pointed out that such love, while honorable, had doomed them worse than anything Tarrant had done up till the point when he proved it. But his confession had softened me, made me feel even more vulnerable despite knowing I had a kindred spirit.

"Everyone, Tarrant? Even my family? They _have _to be living a better life, after what I—"

I stop. Not because I want to, but Tarrant's lips are pressed against mine, lightly but held firmly enough against a slender finger between us, that my babble is cut off.

"Ah, love. Shush," he whispers softly into my slightly open mouth. "It's fine, I'm sure they're in a better place, right, and they're so proud of you for correcting your mistakes…"

There's a lump in my throat, so huge I can barely swallow, preventing me from saying the thank you I wanted to express, but he probably sees it in my eyes and his own lime-green irises twinkle in acknowledgement.

Slightly startled by their vividness, my heart thrummed and I tried to breathe. Instantly I caught a whiff of all his smells: heady aroma of a conglomeration of different flavors of tea, the sharp metallic edge of rust and the machines he tinkers with, and also…I am drawn in by his sweet fragrance, and twist my head slightly so our lips slot perfectly into each other.

Time stops; time has stopped in the Tower, for in the dark of the night we are all alone, with no body and none of the cruelties of this warped world to distract us from our moment.

Then something shifts imperceptibly, and I reach out with my uninjured arm to cradle his head closer to mine, while he, equally hesitantly, parts my teeth with his tongue. Hands run themselves up my waist and torso, smooth as silk. I'm not sure when Tarrant had removed his gloves, but he had, and I felt his palm rubbing my shoulders lightly.

In that moment the memory of skin on skin proved too much for me to take and I jerked back, ashamed and afraid at the same time. Tarrant gasps at mu reaction and pulls away swiftly, the magic between us broken.

"What is it, Alice? Did I hurt you? I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, I don't—"

"No," I murmured, embarrassed and fearful of my past, of my only horrible, horrible sexual encounter. "Please don't…blame yourself. I was the one who started it. You just…responded…naturally." I shuddered, remembering the haunting words of the Tweedles, Tarrant's recently deceased bodyguards.

Silence between us, until it becomes so uncomfortable both of us open our mouths at the same time to break it and—

"Tarrant Hightopp?" We both jumped sideways apart from each other, as Chessur blinked into existence on the tabletop. "Yes, I thought I heard the both of you. Hope I haven't interrupted anything," he smirked as he continued. "But the Gryphon would like to call a meeting…sooner rather than later, if you catch my drift. Good morning."


	3. Conflict

**Disclaimer: All rights to American McGee's Alice...and the movie for names. All thoughts (evil of otherwise) are MINE. MWAHAHA**

**Chapter Three: Conflict**

Razerious paced imperiously in the relatively large chamber, where the word "imperiously" here meant "trying not to stub his paws or claws on random metal shards while maintaining a proud, appropriate posture".

"As cliché as it sounds, you are all probably either wondering why I have woken you this morning or cursing me for spoiling your beauty sleep. ("Aye, aye," replied a half-asleep Molly, and Razerious scowled, which came quite naturally for him). Absolem has—ah—_generously _granted me a vision of sorts. More like, a dream, and he made it quite clear that before we even attempt to contact the Pale Royals for a full-scale invasion of Wonderland's capital, the Jabberwock must be eliminated.

"That…thing is much too detestable, not to mention powerful, to be left serving under the Red Queen so it'd be better for everyone's well-being if we succeeded in removing it this time round," he snarled, glancing sharply at Alice before returning his attention to the semi-attentive crowd. Clicking his beak impatiently, he searched for the fervour for battle, the hunger for righteous bloodshed that he'd felt, that he was feeling coursing through his veins…

* * *

><p>He'd faced crowds before, and relished the experience, enjoyed the attention from Card Guards whenever his full rank was read out, along with the complete list of the medals and honours that he'd received for brave exploits on the field of battle—The Purple Spades, Triple Clubs, and the Iron Diamond. If the badge existed, High Aerial Commandant Razerious had it.<p>

The Heart Royals were eccentric, even for Wonderlanders, but even though he wasn't the longest serving officer, he was the most skilful and most loyal, the one who'd won their full respect, and the instant fear of enemies when he ploughed through hostile lines like a fortified ice-breaker.

Thus he was on the frontline whenever a threat to Wonderland loomed, leading the Flying Assault Card Elites (FACEs) and decks to clear the perennial threats of bloodthirsty Bandersnatch or Jujub Bird packs, or ground strafe the occasional invading force of Red Pieces. Razerious' crack FACEs emerged victorious in every skirmish.

Of course, even he couldn't have accounted for the disasters descending upon Wonderland. Rooks, Knights and murderous birds he could handle with his eyes closed, but one could not triumph over nature gone berserk with military might alone. Razerious fretted as Wonderland was scourged, not just by freak firestorms but also pockets of uprisings and street fighting all over the land.

Suddenly each assault by wild Bandersnatch or Jujub bird was more organized, more effective, and they sought to claim territory rather than food in the form of Wonderlanders.

As if his forces were not having enough on their hands, Dark Arcane practitioners suddenly moved out in full force under a common banner to rebel against the Hearts' rule, in greater numbers than Wonderland's history had ever seen.

Sometimes being the highest ranking military commandant was tiring. But someone's gotta do a job, and so he'd lead his troops valiantly against the invading forces, battling the odds which tipped against them further each time.

* * *

><p>"I've established contact with the gnomes, and they've pledged their undying support. Here I am pleased to say I have led a successful revolt against the Club Card Guards guarding the Village of the Doomed—with their help of course. Al—"<p>

"The _gnomes_, you say? I've met their kind. Firstly the only help they'd be would be as an unruly mob of miniature fodder to be cut down by the callous blades of the Red Chessmen. Not insult their size, but gnomes aren't the types who make the enemy shudder in terror. Simply present them with an organized regiment of well-armed Card Guards and I'd bet my hat that they would drop their…pickaxes or whatever counts as weapons for them and scatter in an instant."

Razerious narrowed his eyes, glaring beadily at the speaker, who was twirling aforementioned hat nonchalantly. "Which part of "successful" did you not understand?" hissed the infuriated creature.

"_False _victory," corrected the Hatter. "Eventually the resulting gain may very well count for nothing when push comes to shove. Now," he continued, speaking to everyone else in general, "not that I'm crushing everybody's morale just for kicks, but we all need to see this."

The air buzzed, and the gathering glanced up at the hovering Crystal Eye flashing, it revealed a map of Wonderland. Specifically, two virtual real-time maps of the area around the Village of the Doomed and Looking Glass Land. Legions of Spade and Diamond Guards marched across rotting land, funnelling through narrow dirt paths leading to the Village. Companies of Red Chessmen rumbled slowly, threateningly, towards the pristine white structure that was Marmoreal, accompanied by a menacing vanguard of Royal Flush units.

Like the inevitable coup hadn't been enough. The Red Queen wasn't one to rest on her laurels, as would-be-rebels found out the _very _hard way. Within less than a fortnight, the Heart Guards were erased from the face of the realm, eliminating any chance of organised resistance under confirmed loyalists to the Hearts.

Razerious had never harder in his life. Or flew harder, at the urging of his remaining, desperate FACE troops while they died valiant deaths fighting off the innumerable Bishop sharpshooter units and heavy cannons stationed around Queensland.

He felt the pain of each Elite's demise, dropping around him like gnats in the face of the crimson blight that was driven by the relentlessness of Wonderland's new sovereign. But the former general understood the wisdom of self-preservation, especially for one as prolific as himself. For Wonderland and the Heart Republic he had a duty to keep living, and keep fighting back. To recruit as many from those who'd gone into hiding as his expertise and courage could muster. In war, purpose and skill could win all battles, or so he had thought.

* * *

><p>He moved his wings uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot on the stained, rusty, littered floor as he gazed unflinchingly at the disconcerting images obtained by the irrepressible Hatter. No doubt his technology was providing of use now, the same way it probably had helped Alice make it through the Land of Fire and Brimstone long enough to face the Jabberwock alive. (But it was <em>I <em>who saved her from certain death at the jaws of the Jabberwock! Me!)

In the end, it was the same genius…no, devil, who conceived the Queen's crack troops and cruelly assembled mindless fodder units. It was the Hatter who had strengthened the Red Queen's grip over every aspect of Wonderlanders' lives by melding her magical might and deviousness with cold, calculating steel and chips.

And, thanks to Mr. Hightopp, he, the most skilful, decorated general of the Hearts armed forces had to suffer the ignominy of incarceration. Not for a couple of hours, or a few days, but three bloody years.

* * *

><p>He could hardly forget the fateful date. The date where he had assembled the most brave, savage beasts and birds of the land who were willing to participate in what he had assured them would be the revolutionary battle. The one that would ensure that all their names would be recorded for posterity in view of their outstanding contributions, when they succeeded in deposing Wonderland's greatest threat since the Spades' insurgence two decades ago.<p>

As it turned out, Razerious was left with a lot of blood on his face and hands.

His very-recently-dead allies' blood.

No sooner had his feathered furred contingent appeared against the Wonderland sun, fully trained and equipped to outmanoeuvre the clumsy flying bishops, a company of flying card troops made of steel, each emblazoned with a single heart, moved out to stop them in their tracks. With speed that allowed the first assault unit of Royal Flush troops to fly circles around even himself, defeat was assured.

Waking up from the stun dart was the most embarrassing moment of his life. Trapped by all manner of contraptions more advanced than that found in Wonderland's highest priority prisons (which he had visited often to deliver executions.) And a muzzle, of all the indignities they could inflict.

* * *

><p>He didn't care what Chessur said about the mind-control chip.<p>

Razerious did not forgive.

And he never, ever, forgot.


	4. Provisions

**DISCLAIMER: AMERICAN MCGEE'S ALICE IS AWESOME. But I don't own it. T.T**

**Just realized I'd never asked for this before, but they say it's never too late to start...please R&R? Thank you so much!**

**Chapter Four: Provisions**

"Why did you—" I stopped short at the gloved finger he raised for silence. His other hand busy fiddling with the disks of whirring machines, Tarrant looked pityingly at me.

"You and Razerious have something in common. You think…" Snick-snick-snick of a cog. "…that with superior strength, or ability, you can triumph in every challenge you face in life." He let a door scan his vivid eyes. Both eyes had to be scanned before it slid open, revealing the ponderous pistons of a new machine dominating most of the basement level.

"So speaks the one who directs his automatons miles behind the front line."

"Hey." Suddenly I was staring down his ebony staff pressing lightly against my neck. "I didn't do too bad in our duel, if I remember.

Smiling thinly, I pushed away the end, relatively blunter than the edge I'd faced last. "I'm quite sure. But Razerious was so—"

"Overconfident in his abilities and achievements. Not that they are trivial, I agree, but the Red Queen is a devious opponent of the highest order. One small slip, whether tactically or psychologically…I paid the price, and I'm still paying."

The rattle and clanking of the gargantuan addition smothered the silence. Tarrant did not speak, resting both hands lightly on his cane as he watched his creation chug.

"What is that?"

"Never thought you'd notice. But now that you mention it…I'd say it's not the time to talk about it. Yet," he smirks, eyes twinkling in rare mirth. Put a hand on my back and led me up the wire stairs. Seeing my raised eyebrows, he patted my shoulders lightly. "It's nothing for you to worry about, see. All of us have our lives, despite what I've said about…anyway, leave the machinery to me, and I'll be quite fine with letting you and Gryphon risk your necks…Deal?"

I snorted. "I don't happen to be doing all this fighting for _fun_, you know. It's all about saving everyone's sorry asses, so that I can restore my…own…mind…" My voice trails away, and I can feel that my lips are sore. Probably because my teeth are clamping down on them so hard the skin almost breaks. My throat tightens and threatens to make me heave as, recalled from the deepest recesses of my mind, the Liddells cry in their burning hell.

"Alice?"

Tarrant is calling out to me, his green eyes questioning and concerned.

So far away.

The irony is intriguing. _He's _the Mad hatter but I'm the one with pathetic voices moaning for my help, cursing my total helplessness, wondering aloud why I hadn't gone back to their aid.

"Alice!"

"Spoon!"

"Ow!"

I spun, eyes flashing, blade out and ready to shred the guts of the surprise attacker who'd just clocked the back of my head and—

"Thackery?" I exclaimed, seeing the jerking quivering animal/cyborg at the end of the corridor Hatter and I had traversed.

"Oh, Heart, I was so worried. Don't _do_ that, Thackery!"

The March Hare spared his former tea partner one glance, taking in the individual who'd strapped him to a grimy table, ripping out and arm and a leg, as well as a better part of his lower torso to experiment and put in machinery as part of what the crazed Hightopp would have called "improvement". Not surprisingly his ears began twitching at even more maniacal angles, while the mechanical leg slammed against the floor incessantly, sending numbing clangs that echoed through the factory.

Alarmed, I was about the step up and comfort the distressed creature, but Tarrant was past me and by Thackery's side in a flash—who squealed, gnashed his teeth and lodged his other foot in Tarrant's chest.

While the Hatter was slammed against the railings and tried to catch his breath, I rushed forward and picked Earwicket up in a tight bear hug. He muttered savage curses at Tarrant, mixed in with quite a few utterances of "Spoon!", and all the while his uncontrollable half-machine body bucked and jerked so hard I thought my bones would be shaken to dust if I held him much longer.

Then Tarrant stood shakily and pointed his cane at the March Hare, who abruptly gave one last jerk before falling limp.

* * *

><p>"So…you're telling me you will locate the Hatter for me. And…forgive me for pointing out the painfully obvious, but how would that benefit you? In any way?"<p>

"In so much as saying how that helps _me_, you should be pointing out how that helps Wonderland. Not everyone pursues such narrow ideals, and I wouldn't have anything to do with you were it not for the fact that your…miserable plans for this country mesh with mine. Thus.

"I'm sure you've noticed by now that the obnoxious Upper Air Girl Alice has returned and regained the affections and aid of the Mad Hatter, and—"

"I beg your most miniscule pardon? The Hatter's _affection_ belong to me, and me alone! No pathetic meddling girl, Upper Air or no, simply steps in and takes him from me!"

Absolem eyed Iracebeth with a lazy look that stated quite clearly he couldn't care less about where the Hatter had chosen to take his fancy.

"Tarrant Hightopp," he continued with a long drag on the repugnant hookah, "is a very dangerous—and useful individual, depending of course on where he stands with respect to you. The tactical advantages that his skills offer are innumerable, as—"

"If you won't get to the point, cut the mindless chatter and vanish back to whatever despicable hellhole you came from!"

The Red Queen seethed—at misty plumes of blue smoke that were already fading away, while Absolem himself was shuffling nonchalantly by her Arcane map.

"Don't touch."

In response Absolem swept a wriggling appendage over the shimmering board, waving away her indignant, half-formed protests with a small shake of his pipe. Thus before Iracebeth could recover from the virtual slap of insubordination (_was_ it appropriate to describe it that way? His grasp of the Arcane was equal to, if not better than hers, and in any case, she had never been able to keep the Caterpillar under her legal jurisdiction despite the ten-year man/worm hunt she'd held to secure his loyalty or, failing that, his death. It was probably nice that he'd come of his own accord but that did not matter he was) "_messing up the BOARD! That construct is more important than you, you DISGUSTING! INSIGNIFICANT! GRUB!" _

Absolem merely looked borderline annoyed.

"Shush, impatient biped!" he hissed, waggling a limb in front of his mouth while gesturing at the swirling board with his pipe.

Trying—for her own and the worm's good—to ignore the horrid shade of sky-blue staining the red-and-white hued auras, she glared. And quite without warning the smoke coalesced onto an enormous structure second in height only to Mamoreal and her own fortress.

"How did you find him?" Iracebeth breathed, mildly impressed.

"Superior Arcane skills compared to yours, _obviously. _You're right about the board, though—it is a work of art that contributed in its small way to my tracing spell," the Caterpillar murmured, shrugging his numerous shoulders. "So. The Hatter's Factory is outlined in clear view, now it is up to you to make your move, although how your army can hope to bring down his Automatons is anyone's guess."

"I will crush them like I did the Borogroves," snarled the Red Queen, twisting the ruby on one of her ornate rings to reveal a Royal Flush pikeman and an equally expressionless Ten Spades Commandant on holo-feed.

"You requested us, your Imperial Viciousness?"

"Quite obviously, fools. I've located—"

Questioning glance from the Caterpillar.

"…_managed _to locate the Hatter's factory, and things are _quite _out of order, seeing how it is _not _under my control as it _should _be.

"Therefore to win my Imperial pleasure I decree that both of you direct half your troops to these coordinates…posthaste. Something on your mind, Beraxus?"

The Ten Spade General hesitated, eyebrows still locked in deep frown.

"I would think that…_all _our chances would be better if we focused on whatever objectives we've been given before—"

"And before you continue with that line of thought, would you prefer to listen to me with your head fastened securely on your shoulders…or with it off?"

Beraxus fell silent.

"Good. Also, I've changed my mind. Again.

"Beraxus, I shall generously grant you the honour of making amends for that slight by leading all your card troops to the factory instead. Take it down, and it will be forgotten. Fail and…you should begin praying that you're dead by then, so I don't have to spend my time getting irritated at your excuses while hauling your ass back. Suffice to say, my irritation and me don't mix well…for you. Got the message?"

In a rare move the Queen abruptly exit in a dramatic eruption of black smoke, presumably to command her vast armies.

Absolem mulled for a while in the empty chamber.

"Better safe than sorry, I think."

With a puff he sent a cloud of red smoke rushing out of the nearest ajar window.


	5. Crusade

**Disclaimer: Me no own American McGee's Alice. Oh well. *sighs***

**R&R! Thanks so much!**

**Chapter Five: Crusade**

"Thackery…he…"

"Yes, quite," he replied, answering Alice's unspoken question.

She moves to shut the lids over his vapid, staring eyes.

"I…remember that tea party, I think. The first time we met. He was already…" here she chuckled softly. "For the lack of a better term, madder than a March Hare."

Tarrant Hightopp shrugs, an action born of helplessness, regret…and rage.

"Indeed, but what I did to them…" he glances over to the snoozing Mallymkun, who'd lain that way, lungs rising and falling beneath a steel ribcage ever since his horrified normal (mad?) self had released his partners-in-tea from their bonds.

Then Thackery twitched in his enforced slumber, thumping, clanging against the metal struts of the hospital bed, screeching for release, for the pain and tearing to stop and to give him his _tea!_

Suddenly the sleep of the Dormouse sounded a more favourable fate by miles.

"What I did…" he tries again, speaking more to himself than to Alice, who was patting the head of Mallymkun tenderly, one of the few organic portions of his body that was left.

"Destroyed them. What was left of "them" in their minds. Pushed…no, kicked them off the brink of sanity because I…was…"

_Bored, and now spit it out, won't you? My joints are rusting hearing you dither, cruel excuse for a hatmaker. _

Tarrant blinked.

Thackery's eyes were wide open, crazed and fixated on his.

_Staring now, are we—_those jaws moved! Twisted with hurt and fury directed at him!—_don't you know how _rude _that is? But I can't do anything about that, can I, not while you've gotten me locked up nice and tight in these leather straps—hey, just like the time you ripped out my guts to amuse that big, bursting brain of yours? Like what you see, then? Like how I look? Like what you've done to me and—_with a jerk of that mangy head—_Mally over there? Rather pretty, don't you think, with these gizzards of copper and limbs of steel. Ought I thank you, do you think, for making us these horrid cyborgs of—_

"No, Thackery, please, I wasn't myself when I did that to you…forgive me, please, I'd make you—"

—_back what I was. If you could. Well now isn't that _such _a convenient thing to say, seeing as the Red Queen didn't replace_ your _left leg with an erractic assortment of pumping whirring…things? Once Alice flipped that chip out of your head, you're nicely walking around, your usual mad self. And where does that leave the rest of us?_

"Tarrant?"

_All those children you used to harvest as your personal guard? _

"Tarrant! What _are _you—"

_You enjoyed watching their silent screams, didn't you; everytime a new batch came in to be sliced, diced, slotted by your eager ma—"_

"—doing? Hatter!"

"Shut up! It wasn't my fault so everyone just Shut. The. Hell. UP!"

"Tarrant! STOP!"

Alice's authoritative voice shattered the clamor. Halted the madness of accusations, scorning and mocking by his once-tea-party-friend-now-half- beast-half-machine Thackery. He paused, took stock of the situation.

Realised that the Match Hare was still quite unconscious instead of snarling indignant curses and insinuating words that had wormed into his head, festering like the now-rotting Wonderland forests.

Noticed that his trembling hands had raised his staff high above Thackery's head, and the next minute of madness would have resulted in once cracked skull, a very messy staff, and most likely another hour of mental torture by Thackery's lingering spirit for his slip in clear, rational thought. (Clear? Rational? He'd have to look those up.)

Ragged breathing fought for attention amid hissing steam valves and clanking cogs.

_His _breathing.

He saw Alice's charming emerald eyes—soft around the edges!—gazing at his concernedly, one hand raised and pulling his staff away quickly and firmly. "The madness…it's gut-wrenching, heart-breaking, nerve wrecking beyond comprehension. But you must fight it, like I am trying to," whispered Alice.

He could not suppress the sigh that shuddered its way out of his chest. Eyes shifting morosely between the girl of his attentions and his motionless tea partners, he said, equally softly, "What…is left that is worth fighting for?"

"Why, for all of—"

"My liege!"

"I wish you'd stop calling me that…what is it?"

He turned to the Crystal Cyborg at the door.

"I think, Mr. Madigan, that you need to see this."

* * *

><p>Claws clacked against the wooden platform he had taken up position so as to better…view things in this destitute dump. He could count the number of times he'd needed to raise his voice in his <em>entire <em>lifespan on one paw, and…three of those times had been in the last few hours.

Chessur glared at the whole unruly lot distastefully (not too much of the latter, he reminded himself. After all, all of them _were _supposedly their "potential allies"). That, at least was within his rights as head overseerof this evacuation operation.

"Hoi! Gharish, the dirigibles are _that_ way! Are you _that_ eager to relive slavery in the mines?"

_Fools who follow fools like sheep, all of them. _Daily mind-numbing routine must have addled their senses too much. Curse Razerious and his (he'd like to say misguided, but it was always better to keep such thoughts to himself and not have to eat his words later) faith in these grumbling, groaning gnomes.

There hadn't been much indecision on the Gryphon's part when he was deciding who had the necessary Arcane skills of evaporating, and the ability to move across the realm at will for this task.

(_He didn't know whether to be flattered or frustrated_)

Still, it was a dirty job, and _someone_ hadto do it.

(Whichever smart-alec invented _that_ phrase could stuff it and do the job _himself_ instead of spouting wise nonsense that didn't make sense to anyone.)

(Hmm. Familiar, that.)

Change was the constant.

(Which was particularly why he didn't like it. Stupid, self-contradicting entity.)

Unfortunately It also had the irritating habit of farcing itself on others, and the result was that one of Wonder;and's best professional spies/assassins was helping to direct the escape of a couple of thousand gnomes up and down the Village of the Damned.

Funnily enough he'd never been around these parts in the days before the Red Queen came to power. Customers who could afford his exorbitant prices then didn't relish wasting the expertise they'd paid for on easy kills.

It was always espionage along the swanky streets of the Diamond Domes, footed by green-eyed Club Royals wondering how they accumulated so much wealth, or a desperate company owner calling a clandestine strike on his competitor who'd been doing too well for his own taste.

Even the Heart Royals were not above hiring his talents, as the darker arm of the ruling suit which could go places and do things above recriminations that would fly thick and fast had the Hearts openly engaged in the acts they paid Chessur to do.

Of course, it came without question that he infuriated the Peacekeeper Decks with his audacity and his…propensity to vanish straight out of their ion prisons the moment their backs were turned.

Then came the arrival of Alice. A child. A naïve, bright-eyed and stumbling child, which was quite…interesting. Sparked his curiosity, if nothing else.

"_I'll take you to the Hatter and the Hare. Coming?"_

On retrospect, what had started out as a small sadistic experiment (what, surely a feline assassin had the freedom to enjoy the warping of a young mind by Wonderland's maddest man) was probably the best accidental deed in his relatively short life. The spark that the child put in the Hatter's eye was bliss, not lunacy.

Each time he was with her, Tarrant's eyes dilated with pleasure like they never had before.

Whenever he had one of those perpetual tea parties with the March Hare and the Dormouse.

Whenever he took a relaxing stroll through groves of Tumtum trees after brillig.

Whenever he just basked in the warm Wonderlandian sun in the Tulgey woods.

Except the Hatter was no longer alone.

* * *

><p>The Red Queen's uprising…wasn't exactly a concern for him. His profession couldn't care less whether the Queen was a democratic ruler or autocratic despot. The change in governance couldn't shackle his paws, and there was always demand for a killer of his caliber and discreetness.<p>

Life as usual, if not for freak weather making Wonderland quite the living hell.

Or it would have been, if there hadn't been three…worrying occurrences.

Alice never came back, which meant Tarrant spent his days lounging miserably and hosting below-par tea parties. Even Hatter's preferred Darjeeling left a sour note on his tongue.

Then the number of times he'd had to wriggle his way out of the tenacious grasp of the Red Queen's underlings began to get on his nerves.

But a sadder Hatter could be ignored, and it was the regime's own loss to not appreciate his talents.

The news that the Heart Guards had been massacred by assassin, though…it was one of those things would have been another minor blip except for the other _distressing _rummours that the killer was…feline.

* * *

><p>"Chessur?"<p>

He snapped out of his thoughts to see the Gnome Elder tapping his platform.

"The Spade and Diamond Regiments are retreating. Do we…?"

"Eh?" Chessur's tail twitched irritably. Change and her…annoying presence again.

(Also, thoughtful frowns did _not_ suit him.)

"So the Hatter's prediction has come to pass, hasn't it…" he muttered, speaking more to himself than the Elder.

Then he grinned decisively, having come to a decision.

"Continue with the exodus. I will need to meet the Carpenter, if that's possible?"


End file.
